


Set in Stone

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Anal Sex, Connor can be read as Trans or Cis, Gargoyles, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Lovecraftian Monster(s), M/M, Porn With Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: Connor receives a letter that his godmother and aunt Amanda Stern has passed on, leaving everything in his name. He comes to her grand home in Michigan to settle all of the needed paperwork, and finds secrets lurking and waiting for him.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	Set in Stone

**Author's Note:**

> ** I purposefully tried to write Connor fairly neutrally, so he can be read as either trans or cis, and either way they're having anal so please mind the tags!**

Connor Stern never knew his aunt Amanda very well, only meeting her a handful of times when her duties as his godmother required her presence. Not to mention, he spent so much of his younger years studying abroad before he began working in Washington DC.

But on a chilly autumn morning just a couple months shy of his 33rd birthday, he received a letter from a Jeffery Fowler, esquire. 

Mr. Fowler began by offering his condolences, as he was bringing word of Amanda Stern’s passing. However, the reason for his correspondence was as the executive of her estate. As she lacked any children of her own, she had named Connor as the sole inheritor of her possessions. A collection of paintings by the acclaimed Carl Manfred, a vast library of books and academic papers that were gifted to her as a patron of a local university, not to mention the vast estate near the Great Lakes in Michigan where she passed.

It was so much, all at once. But, with the winter holidays approaching, and his unused vacation time when his brother’s wedding was called off, he arranged to spend two months in Michigan to get everything settled. 

In mid-November, he took the train north. Connor ended up sleeping in his compartment for much of the journey. When he was awake, he would look out over snow-covered countryside as it rolled by. He spotted the smokestacks of the houses as they passed, creating stories around the families that must live there. 

When he arrived in Lansing, he was greeted at the station by Jeffery Fowler himself.

“You must be Madame Stern’s nephew,” he said, extending his hand out to Connor. “You are exactly as she had described to me.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.”   
  
“Oh, please, call me Jeff. Come, it is a long journey yet to the estate.”

The road in the rickety motorcar, the roads thankfully clear as autumn had lasted late into the season.

"I must warn you, Connor… Amanda had a close friendship with a professor at the university, this fella Kamski. He has been at the place since I wrote to you, looking after the place."

That was quite the undertaking, Connor thought. He would have to thank him somehow. 

"Thank you for informing me, Jeffery." 

They continued to discuss matters that needed to be dealt with. What could be discarded or burned, what could be included in a grand sale.

At the mention of selling certain things, Fowler raised his eyebrows. 

"What about the place itself? Would you leave your work in DC to live here."

"I'm… unsure as of yet."

He had given the idea ample contemplation. If he sold some of the more expensive pieces, he could afford to not work for a few years, and perhaps study and change careers. He was not overly fond of politics, finding chemical sciences much more fascinating, particularly how it could be used in solves crimes. 

Fowler seemed intrigued at the idea, and offered to do what he could to help Connor fulfill such a scheme. 

"Doesn't seem right for anyone else to own the place. Even having Elijah there doesn't sit right with me. He keeps mentioning renovations, upheaving all the woodworking for a more simple paint job or some nonsense like that." 

Connor sat in silence as Fowler huffed, adjusting himself in his seat.

"He had no right. Don't let him pull anything with you. You have the documents, you know what it is worth."

"I assure you, even if I do not stay beyond January, I do intend to keep it as a vacation home for at least a few years. I would never sell without consulting you."

"Good," Jeffrey nodded. "You're a smart kid, Stern. Every bit like your aunt, in so many ways."

A few hours later, they drove slowly through the iron gates, ascending the slight hill the mansion sat upon. At the front steps, Fowler stopped the vehicle and Connor immediately slid one of his travel cases from the back as the driver took the small one.

He only brought the essentials he felt he would need; things for work, a dozen changes of clothes, and a few personal trinkets to help it feel more like home for a while. As they ascended the stairs, a pale figure emerged from the elegant front entrance.

“You finally made it, Mr. Stern,” the man, who Connor guessed must be this Elijah Kamski, greeted coolly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”   
  
“Thank you,” Connor replied as friendly as he could. “And my thanks for looking after the property, I understand it must have been quite the undertaking.”

Kamski bowed slightly, a hand over his chest, "After all your dear aunt did for me, it was no problem at all. Although I look forward to returning to my pupils for the spring semester." He exhaled, his breath creating a cloud on the chilly air. "I was hoping, if you would not mind, of I could remain here until my apartment at the campus is ready in January. I forfeited the space for my temporary replacement, you see."

Exchanging a small glance, Connor and Fowler silently acknowledged the bold request.

"Well, I was not exactly expecting the company-"

"It will take me quite some time," Kamski interrupted, "to pack up my things and arrange for accommodations. I can be gone by Christmas, if you are expecting company or the like."

Connor bit his tongue in thought. He never doubted Fowler's warning, but he did not expect the man to be so persistent. 

"A month should be more than enough," he stated firmly. "An older building like this takes much to stay heated; the fewer the rooms in use the easier it shall be."

"Of course, Mr. Stern." 

There was something in the man's smile that put Connor on edge, but a moment later Fowler invited him in a tour of the rooms.

He could feel Amanda in all of the rooms. Neat, stately, but not too lavish or elaborate save for the rooms for entertaining. There was even a room intended for Connor, if he ever needed to stay with her, just beside the expansive library. 

"Most of the documents are at her desk there, but I have copies of many of them as well. We have a lot to sort through."

Humming, Connor ghosted his finger along the edge of the desk. "Thank you, Jeffrey. I really appreciate everything."

"I should probably head home, my wife will scold me if I miss supper. You are welcome to join us if you ever find yourself in town."

They shook hands once more, "I will, thank you."

Before breaking apart, Fowler leaned in to whisper something to Connor. "Watch your back, kid."

Connor nodded sharply, walking Fowler to the foyer before retiring to his room. He started by penning a letter to his brother; they had finally gotten in touch again when Connor told him the news of their aunt. He had agreed to allocate a few belongings for him in the hopes that his brother would visit around the new year. But it was still uncertain, since Richard was traversing Europe ever since his broken engagement.

\--

The weather quickly dropped into winter, and when he wasn't pouring over audits and documents, Connor was out in the woods collecting wood. 

Having Elijah around was more uncomfortable than a direct nuisance. They would cross each other in the halls, occasionally preparing meals in the kitchen at the same time. The young professor had a habit of trying to make conversation, despite Connor's reluctance, asking if he could help with paperwork or fetching things from town when one of his teaching assistants came to call. 

One thing he wouldn't do, however, was fetch wood from the forest. 

"The first week I was here, I swear I saw some sort of beast stalking about. I would be careful out there. Besides, there is plenty of wood in the cellar."

While there was plenty of wood, Connor couldn't gauge how fast they might go through it, so he took to collecting what he could until the snow was too deep outside to get more. 

He wasn't a stranger to such labor, but he would return with cold, red cheeks and aching feet. Once he had restoked the fire in his bedroom, he would strip out of his clammy clothing. Connor shivered, wiping away the uncomfortable layer of sweat before crawling beneath the covers of his bed. Everything ached, and it took the better part of an hour to coax himself to dress and work. 

As December eased in, Connor found himself spending more and more time hunched over the desk in the library. He wanted to finish going through everything before the holidays, which he now knew he would be spending alone after all. Fowler, of course, opened his home to Connor, but the young man decided he would spend the time doing some leisurely reading and drinking a fine, French wine he had found in the cellar. 

He was exhausted, working himself to the bone between the figures and lists in the library and the frozen woods outside. Connor’s focus started to wane, and accidents slowly became more and more frequent.

Water on one of the marble floors that made him slip, a wrinkle in the carpet that covered the stairs… he hardly noticed until it was almost too late, but he managed to catch himself.

“Connor? Are you all right?” Elijah was at his side swiftly when slipped on one of the ladders in the grand library while reaching for a certain book.

“Fine… I’m fine.” 

Suddenly, a window fluttered open, a gust laced with snowflakes blowing papers to the carpeted floor. Kamski turned toward it, approaching cautiously to close it again. “So strange,” he muttered, looking out and around. “Perhaps you should retire to your room, for now. You look quite pale, my friend.”   
  
Nodding, Connor stood weakly, “Yes, yes all right.”   
  
He nearly collapsed onto the bed when he made it to his room, only barely spotting the swift shadow that seemed to fly past his window a moment later. It was curious; too large to have been a bird and too high up to be any other sort of beast. Perhaps it was just his mind playing tricks.

Or maybe… Kamski was right.

A few days later, Connor realized the end of the month was fast approaching, and his overstayed guest seemed no more prepared to leave as he was when Connor arrived. He slipped a letter, in the early hours of the morning of the 22nd, under the door of Elijah’s bedroom. Nothing demanding or brash, just a simple request for an update when Connor returned from foraging and collecting wood for the day. 

Connor brought a length of rope with him for the wood, and a satchel for juniper berries and tree-growing mushrooms that he came across. He intended to have a small roast in a few nights, and anything extra he found would make for a fine stew for the days to follow. The sky was grey, darker clouds rolling in from the West; the forest seemed even more silent with anticipation of the incoming storm.

He wandered farther than usual, hesitant to return too early when he would need to confront Kamski. Connor disliked arguing, part of why he didn’t study law like his brother did. 

When he finally did return, the sky somehow darker than before. He unloaded his pack in the kitchen, leaving the bundle of wood unraveled so the hard oak branches could dry out.

Connor made himself some tea, still dressed for the cold, and climbed up to the widow’s walk at the very top of the house. There was a small stool up there, and he liked to think Amanda came up there to look out over the treetops and valleys on breezy summer afternoons. While it was not nearly as warm, the view was still quite remarkable.

The wind began to pick up, and before he collected his cup to return inside, the small door from the stairs opened startlingly hard.

He met eyes with Kamski, seeing something had changed. The usually charming demeanor was exchanged with something cold, something frightening. Elijah closed the door behind him, and Connor suddenly felt trapped.

“I can’t say I didn’t try, Mr. Stern,” he started, pacing slowly forward. “You’re a tough one, though, I should have expected that.”

“What do you want, Elijah?”   
  
The man laughed openly, looking around as if they were being watched before a grim smirk creeped along his lips. “I thought that would be clear. There is so much here for me, you know. It’s close to the university, so much potential and resources here. And I’m up for tenure in the next year or so, it’s about time I settle down somewhere.”   
  
From the pocket of his jacket, he produced a small pistol. Connor held his breath, and gentle flakes of snow finally began to fall.

“You made it so easy, at first. So accommodating, going out for wood every day, and returning just after I had set my traps. But you just wouldn’t *die*,” Elijah gritted his teeth. “So, you have the final choice, Connor. I can push you over the edge there, or we can make this quicker with gunpowder and lead. Either way, I’ll be sure to alert the authorities of your tragic suicide.”   
  
A sound, a heavy beating of wings, came from over the edge of the roof. It distracted them both, but Connor seized the opportunity to try and duck around Kamski and run back inside. He was blocked, lanky hands on his shoulders and then around his neck. Connor struggled to loosen them as he was pushed against the wood railing. 

“I’m sorry it had to be like this, Connor,” Elijah spat, squeezing harder as Connor’s vision started to fade. “But you should accept your fate.”

With a rush of freezing wind, something swooped close and knocked the professor off of Connor, and he fell to his knees with sputtering coughs and raspy breaths. His mind was hazy, and he couldn’t see much, but there was the figure some sort of man, or creature. Tall, with grey skin, but dressed in loose trousers and a pale blue tunic. There was a growl, it must have come from the thing, before swiping at Elijah and disappearing from Connor’s view, followed by the echo of a gunshot.

Body aching, he tried to crawl to the door, but when he stood his body his mind seemed to fade into a dark haze of cold.

\-------

  
  


Connor awoke in his bed.

His head thudded with pain, and while he was finally warm, he felt incredibly weak and sore.

Slowly, he let his eyes drift open. He was in his room, but how he made it there he did not know. It was dark, with only the fireplace to cast a soft light around the room. It must have been later in the night… how long was he out?   
  
Trying to push himself up, he grunted with effort, and someone else in the room gasped. “You’re awake,” they said.

Connor was shocked at who - or what - had said that.

It was a man, of a sort, but his skin was that same graphite-color as the shape that he had seen on the roof. Broad shoulders and a matching barrel chest, patches of scales along the edges and joints, and horns crowned his forehead. As he sat on the edge of Connor’s bed, he could see sleek, enormous wings on his back, like a bat’s.

“You were so pale when I returned to you on the roof, I was scared that you-” The creature reached a large hand out toward Connor, and even though he knew it was his savior, he flinched away. The hand curled, retracting away. “I’ll pour you some tea.”

“Wait,” Connor said, but it came out more like a whisper. “I’m sorry, I just… what are you?”   
  
The creature hummed, as if amused, still turned away toward the fireplace. “A protector, of sorts. I have watched over this house for decades, have seen it passed down over generations. I knew Amanda well; we would sit and talk up on the roof on occasion. She was very lonely here until…”   
  
The thought drifted away, unfinished, and Connor let it rest. He was offered a cup, held so delicately in the creature’s clawed hands, and he took it with a thanking nod.

“I think Elijah mentioned you?” He said, after sipping the almost too-sweet tea. “He said he saw some sort of beast once, out in the woods. It must have been you, right?”   
  
“What, that little snake? You won’t need to worry about him any longer.”   
  
A shiver coursed through Connor, “Did you kill him?”   
  
The creature shook his head, “I would’ve liked to, but that would look ill upon you. He ran off toward town, he’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Connor said. “And, thank you for saving me. What may I call you?”

“Hank. Or at least, that’s what Amanda would call me. You’re her nephew, Connor, right?”

He nodded, giving a shy smile, but it soured when he saw a raw marking on the creature’s arm. “Did he hurt you?”

“Oh,” Hank brought a hand up to the exposed wound. “Only a graze, I’m all right.”

“It looks painful, let me at least wrap it for you.” 

He tried to climb out from under the covers, but when he face scrunched into a wince he was gently pushed back into the pillows. 

“*You* need to sit.”

Connor complied, mostly because he was really kidding himself if he thought he could even make it out of bed, let alone tend to the nasty-looking gash. 

“Can I at least offer you something to eat? I was going to make a stew, but it’s already gotten so late.”

“I assure you, I can look after myself,” Hank said gently, standing up as he moved toward the fire. “You should go back to sleep.”

“Will I-” Connor gripped the edge of the blanket covering him. “Will I see you in the morning?”   
  
“Perhaps. Now, rest.”

  
  


When Connor awoke to the bright sunlight streaming in through the curtains, he was very much alone. Wrapped in a knitted afgan from the library, he padded quietly through the house, only the creaking from the wind outside reaching his ears. 

In the kitchen, he pulled a loaf of bread from a storage box to slice and smear with butter and jam, eyeing the building layers of snow outside. It was safe to say he would not likely be able to join Fowler for Christmas, but he had enough to get by for a few days until he could make it into town. Thank goodness he went foraging the day before, he still felt too weak and shaky to go back out today.

He took his breakfast to the library, igniting the fire to make a fresh pot of tea, and wondered if his new friend would be joining him. 

  
The morning hours ticked by, and he let himself read and rest on the fainting couch tucked under the blanket. But, Hank didn’t come back. Connor wondered what manner of beast he was, if perhaps the light of day affected him like some were rumored to. With his horns and wings, it reminded Connor of the gargoyles that watched over the great cathedrals and castles in Europe. Even his grey skin looked like dark, volcanic stone. 

It was a couple of days, Christmas Eve in fact, when he saw Hank again.

He had made it into town, giving a thick satchel of documents to Jeffery Fowler with his signatures and notes. It was a heavy weight from his chest, and since the house felt so much more peaceful without Kamski’s looming presence, he had made the decision to stay in the house and weigh his options a few months longer. 

A few fine paintings that had been stored away for decades would be donated as substantial gifts to art museums in Detroit and New York. Some of the more lavish pieces of furniture, other paintings, and collected pieces from distant lands would be sold at auction.

He stopped in the market on his way home, purchasing small goose to roast, some festive cookies, and a large load of produce to store away if the weather turned again. As it was, the journey to and from the manor was frigid and slippery, but he arrived back well before the sun set. 

He put the goose in the warmed oven, along with carrots, potatoes, fresh thyme and salt. The basin of the pan he filled with mellow red wine, saving the rest to have with his meal. As the hours ticked by, the delicious smell began to fill the halls, even reaching the library where Connor found himself cozied up in again. It had the largest windows in the house to able to drench the tall shelves and reading couches with light. He hoped it would also give him the best chance of seeing Hank if he flew past, hoping to invite him to supper.

Night fell, and the skin of the goose browned nicely in the old brick oven, and Connor was careful to slide it out gently. As he began to carve it, he heard a gentle rapping at the back door. His lips curled up, and he set down his knife to answer it.

It was, to his delight, his savior from the other night. He looked a little tired and worn, but smiled all the same when they were face to face.   
  
“Come in, please,” Connor ushered him inside and out of the cold. “Go ahead to the dining room, I set a place for you.”

Hank seemed unsure, but obeyed; he climbed up from the stone floor of the kitchen to the hall, tall candles and fine place settings for two at one end of the mahogany dining table. He was joined very soon after as Connor entered slowly with two plates of divine-smelling food. One had an extra serving or so, which was set in front of the seat at the head of the table.

“Please, sit,” Connor said, gesturing toward that seat and sitting at the one just to the right of it. 

“How did you know I would come?” Hank asked, stabbing of morsel of the roasted goose onto a fork as wine was poured into his glass.

The host shrugged his shoulders a little, “I didn’t, but I hoped you would.”

The wind whistled outside, making the trees groan and gracefully swept swaths of snowflakes against the windows. They ate fairly silently, slowly, exchanging soft glances. Partway through their meal, Connor stretched his leg out, his knee bumping into Hank’s. He didn’t even look up, when Hank did in confusion, Connor just gave a tender smile.

"I really am glad you're here. I don't think I would be alright by myself, and I'm glad Elijah isn't here anymore. But you… I'm so fascinated by you." He looked Hank over, analyzing and admiring the creature's appearance. "Your skin, for example. It looks so…" 

His arm extended toward Hank, so focused and curious, and Hank let him touch his face. “It’s malleable, but porous like a pumice stone, or dry clay.” His fingertips continued to explore, combing through the thick beard and along the sculpted features of his face. “How did you come to be? Do you have any family?”   
  
“I came from the earth, many centuries ago. There are others… but they are so few. They usually stay hidden for their own safety.”

Connor shook his head in disbelief, in absolute awe. “You’re remarkable, beautiful.”

The dishes were left forgotten once they had finished, retiring to the parlor in front of the grand fireplace. The embers crackled, filling the room with a gentle, cozy smell, as Connor had placed a small bundle of pine cones and cinnamon sticks with the sturdy blocks of oak and cedar. 

He laid in Hank’s arms upon the camelback sofa, a quilt draped over them. The delicate fingertips of Connor’s hands continued to study every curve and edge of Hank’s body. Slowly, he even guided Hank’s more massive hands up to his skin, revelling in how they wrapped around his waist and hips so easily. 

“I’ll be staying through the winter,” he tells Hank, almost in a whisper. “And even longer after that, I think. There’s a lot to take care of before I will know for sure. Would that be all right?”   
  
“More than,” Hank chuckles, nuzzling his face against the side of Connor’s face. He breathed in slow, nose deep in Connor’s brown curls, releasing just as slowly with a rumble right by the young man’s ear. “I feel better staying here, knowing you’re going to look after this place.”

Connor shivered, nervous excitement coursing through him, “As long as you would like, Hank.”   
  


They huddled together there by the fire, and well into the night. 

Connor awoke alone on the sofa, still covered in the thick blanket that smelled of earth and smoke. He felt protected, knowing Hank would be around.

Hank came and went as he pleased over the next few days: occasionally joining Connor for meals, flying past the library windows, bringing small offerings of wood. They would curl up together, either in the parlor or in Connor’s bed, each night when the young man’s eyes started to grow heavy with sleep. 

One night, he knocked on the door by the kitchen with an old stag thrown over his back. The gentle creature was too old to make it through the winter, and Connor made use of as much of the body as he could, with help. 

They grew closer, spent more and more time together. Both having been so isolated for so long, finally together as if they had known each other for years.

Their first kiss had come so naturally. Connor had shrugged away his clothing before Hank even came to his window, letting him in out of the cold. He stood completely nude, deciding to forgo wearing his nightshirt to bed, and invited Hank under the covers with him. 

He smiled softly, holding his breath as Hank worshipped the exposed flesh with his lips. Hands, arms, chest, neck, and then lips. He had only lingered upon Connor’s lips for a moment before the brunet smashed their faces together, gripping Hank’s hair to keep him close. Their loins touched gently beneath the covers, and it was enough to drive them into a heated frenzy in each other’s arms.

The night before the new year, Hank stayed out much longer than he had been. Connor had eaten dinner alone, and an hour before midnight he found himself pacing the hallways nervously. What if Hank had been seen, and hurt? Or if something was wrong?   
  
He resolved himself to find out, building up in several layers to look for him in the forest.

The night air was cold, but still. His voice carried far when he called out Hank’s name, shaky but clear as a bell. He tried a few groves he knew Hank frequented, and ventured all the way to the crick that marked the edge of the property. Despite dressing in thick clothes, he still shivered as he continued his search, and his head began to ache as his ears and nose became numb. 

The sound of a gun firing reached Connor suddenly as he had started to make his way home, and he broke into a run in the direction it came from. Another sounded off, birds fluttering away from a grouping of pines.

“Hold your fire!” Connor screamed, dashing into the glen and coming almost face to face with a hunter. “This is private property,” he told the man.

“I own the farm to the west o’ya, saw something by the fence that didn’t look right. Scared my sheep, it’s still around here!”

“You must be seeing things…” Connor lied, but smiled in an attempt to calm the man. “I have been out for a stroll, perhaps you saw me.”   
  
The farmer looked at him, unconvinced. “Looked mighty big to be you, sir. But I’ll go home, too cold out tonight anywho. Y’take care, boy.”   
  
He watched the man leave, staying put until he was well into his own territory again before he started searching for Hank once more. He searched the ground for blood, or markings of any kind. To his relief, he finally heard the sound of Hank’s wings overhead, coming closer and closer. 

He turned, looking at the shadow approaching from the canopy of stars, but Hank was coming so fast. In a moment he was knocked to the ground, his breath knocked from his chest, claws pinning him down on his shoulder and belly.

“I-It’s just me, Hank,” he rasped out, but Hank look at him with an eerily blank gaze. “Hank?”

The snarling face was inches from his own. He was very still, aside from the heavy, almost labored breaths, blue eyes turned dark like the night sky. They stayed half-buried in the snow until recognition slowly dawned on Hank, and he stumbled backwards and off of Connor.

“I’m sorry. Oh, Connor-” He offered a hand down to help Connor to his feet, pulling him close. “I’ve just felt so protective, after what happened with that man. I didn’t even realize how late it had gotten.”   
  
“Hank,” Connor whispers. “I’m just glad you’re unharmed. I came looking for you, and heard that gunshot, and I was scared that you-”   
  
Hank chuckled, “Takes more than a bullet to take me down. I hid in the trees from that old farmer.”   
  
Holding each other little tighter, Connor sighing in relief. “Let’s go home, please.” 

Before Connor realized what was happening, Hank lifted him from the ground. The young man gave a small yelp, and then gasped when he was lifted two, five, ten feet off the ground. In Hank’s arms, Connor could feel how his body tensed and relaxed with each beat of his wings, bringing them toward the ancestral home. 

Connor could see so much, in a way that he couldn’t from the top of the widow’s walk. He could almost touch the tops of the strong pine trees; they soared past the windows, and it was like looking inside a detailed dollhouse.

The beast landed them down carefully, and smiled at the exasperated but broad smile on Connor’s face. “That was… that was incredible.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Hank grinned, using his wings to propel himself toward Connor and press him against the wall. Not like how Connor was pinned in the snow, this was gentle and affectionate; his chest rumbled as he brought his lips to Connor’s neck. 

“You smell so good, my little dove.” The fangs in Hank’s mouth just barely grazed the skin of Connor’s shoulder, on the verge of growling. “I can’t keep myself away from you any longer,” he warned, hips pressing against Connor’s. 

“Tell me what you need,” Connor insisted, soft sweetness coating his words. “Or show me.”   
  
Sighing, Hank brought his head down to rest on Connor’s shoulder. “I couldn’t ask you to-”

“I want you too, Hank. Please?”   
  
They hurried inside, Connor nearly pulling Hank up the stairs. The creature was close to bursting, emotions and instinct driving him to tug at Connor’s clothes. They made it to the door of the library, and the dams of Hank’s patience broke and spilled.

Connor did his best to help, but he ended up with a torn jacket and an old sweater completely ruined as Hank had him laying naked and prone on the chaise by the window. The brunet blushed, his body bathed in the creamy moonlight that streamed in. Any restraint he had was gone.

He let his own loose coverings fall to the carpeted floor; Connor’s eyes widened. 

“I want you to be mine,” Hank’s voice rumbled, echoed like it was spoken by more than one of him. “Only mine.”

Connor sat straight, looking up where Hank stood before him, his erection just level with those plush, pink lips. Large hands carded through his hair, pulling him in until he had his mouth wrapped around the cockhead. It was an odd texture, certainly not that of a human cock, but it was unlike the rest of Hank’s skin as well. The erection was incredible solid, smooth like weathered sea glass, and it slid so easily against his tongue. 

“Yesssss,” Hank hissed hips stuttering in an attempt to go deeper.

There was no give, and with the size Connor couldn’t help but graze the edges with his teeth, but it seemed to only further Hank’s desire. Eventually, Connor just let his jaw hang open as Hank thrusts into his mouth, drool spilling over his lips. He gave a small whimper, his own burning need making his body hot. 

Hank pulled away, giving Connor a chance to take full breaths again, his eyes glazed over. “Please Hank.  _ Please _ .” He turned about on the chaise, arms shakily holding him up, groaning when he felt Hank grab his hips. 

He expected the smooth feeling of Hank’s cock, but gasped when he felt his cheeks spread apart and something warm and damp press into him. 

Hank’s tongue, long and pointed, entered him slowly. He circled around the hole, coaxing Connor to unclench his muscles, only going deeper when he did. Connor used his own hand to muffle the sound that tried to escape his mouth, and his body shivered.

“So good for me,” Hank mumbled against his ass, going even further. It only made Connor grow louder, his hand hardly of use to suppress the breathy moans that came forth. He make sure Connor was nearly boneless and his cock was glistening before pulling his face away and lining his cock up with the puckered hole. “I may lose myself, until I’m done. Are you sure, Connor?”   
  
“P-please, Hank. N-need it,” Connor panted, nails digging into the brocade upholstery. “Need to… need to feel you.”

Hank eased in gently, vision going white as he felt Connor’s tight heat around him. He gripped those lean hips hard, claws almost drawing blood, rocking slowly before the insatiable animal side of him took over. Connor’s honey-sweet voice gave a low moan, breath catching in a sob when Hank was nearly all the way inside of him. His cock had slid in so smoothly, but he knew the size was still a lot to adjust to.

He breathed, harsh and waiting, until Connor gave him any sort of sign that he could keep going. It came in the form of the rolls of Connor’s hips toward him, and his name on his breath.

So Hank pressed on.

Another inch or so, and all of his cock was deep into Connor’s ass. So beautifully deep, a wash relief cascaded through him until he had to pull away. Every thrust in, Hank felt like he was digging deeper into a dream. Losing just some sense of control, but it was a divine release as he kept on moving; he couldn’t stop now.

And Connor didn’t want him to.

The pressure, the movement, the lewd sounds that came from behind him as Hank became lost in the pleasure was a perfect mixture that Connor wanted to drown in. It had been too long since he had felt some pleasure, either by his own hand or another’s, but no memory compared to the exquisite feeling of Hank inside him, right then in that moment. 

He brought his fingers down between his legs, aching and wanting for release. The thrusts came so much faster, and he felt his skin go hot and cold with such a wonderful ache as he came, thick liquid dripping down his fingers and onto the seat. His concern for any sort of mess dissipated fast, because Hank just  _ kept going _ . 

Connor was pressed harder into the seat, the wooden legs sliding ever-so-slightly across the carpet. “H-Hank?”   
  
He got a growl in reply, and just held on tightly as he was fucked wildly. It felt like it would never end, not that he even wanted it too; he would let Hank use him like this as long as he wanted. The rough grumbles became more desperate, Hank’s cock hardly leaving him anymore and just pulsing at the very deepest corners inside of him. 

And then Hank came. His arms suddenly wrapped around Connor’s waist, pulling him up and flush against Hank’s chest and belly as his cock pulsed and filled Connor with warmth. It all stayed inside him, not a drop escaping from how tightly Connor was squeezing around him.

Hank came back into himself, slowly and carefully, breathing hard and body hot like a smoldering ember. His strong body, still clutching Connor close, sank into the chaise as he gently lifted Connor up and off of him. Hank’s seed spilled all over his lap, and though he could hardly think or breathe, Connor let out a small laugh at the feeling of it. Hank draped the young man across the seat, back leaning against him so he can place encouraging kisses in his hair.

  
“You are a wonder of this earth, Hank,” he says softly, when his mind could create coherent sentences again. “Will you stay here with me? Will you stay until the morning?”  
  
With a hum, Hank gave a nod. “I’ll be here as long as you are, and longer.”   
  
Connor began drifting off into a restful sleep, safe and protected under Hank’s watchful eyes, for that night and so many hundreds to come.

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to post this closer to Halloween, but since parts take place around Christmas I let myself take my take with it.
> 
> A big big big big thank you to my betas/sensitivity readers: inkysparks, BIGHANK (piano_fire), goldengan, a_perverted_squid, gaydeviants, and havenwolds!!! 
> 
> Please be sure to leave a comment, and say hi on Twitter- @canticumexvacui
> 
> Cheers dears!


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